


Interludio

by dorky (dorcas_gustine)



Category: The A-Team (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-22
Updated: 2010-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 17:56:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/102493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorcas_gustine/pseuds/dorky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BA tries to have sex with Murdock. Murdock tries to cook. Or is it the other way around?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interludio

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Porn Battle X](http://oxoniensis.dreamwidth.org/30726.html), for the prompt _cook_. Betaed by old_blueeyes on lj. :D

"For the last time, you idiot," he growled. "It's the middle of the night."

Hands swatted vaguely his way as if he were a particularly annoying mosquito. "Not now," Murdock said. "I'm _creating_."

'Creating' apparently required the Mysterious Thing That Was Probably Cheese that Murdock had acquired the day before and had said that it tasted absolutely _divine_ \- B.A. didn't know about tastes, but he'd have sworn it had _moved_ \- an unholy amount of fire, some unidentifiable powder that B.A. sure as hell hoped was just some weird spice and an horrifying orange apron of doubtful origin. And _nothing else_.

B.A. groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. Ever since he'd met Murdock, he'd started to experience a whole new category of headaches. Murdock-induced headaches included, amongst others: Did You Drug Me To Get Me On This Plane headaches, Stop Talking This Instant Or So Help Me God headaches, Who The Hell Booby-Trapped My Van headaches and Why Are You Taking Me On This Plane Without Drugging Me headaches. Apparently he'd developed another new and exciting one: the It's Three O'Clock In The Morning Stop This Bullshit And Come Back To Bed headache.

"I swear," B.A. said with all the calm he could muster at three o'clock in the _freaking_ morning. "I swear one day I'm gonna kill you dead, fool."

Murdock turned and looked at him from head to toes and back again, his forehead scrunched up in a frown as if he was actually trying to gauge whether B.A. was telling the truth. After a moment he seemed to come to the obvious conclusion and shrugged. "You'd miss me after five minutes," he said with a grin and a wink. "No, make that three."

"Three quietest minutes of my life, though" B.A. said.

"Uh-huh," Murdock said, but he had already moved on from the conversation and he was now rummaging through the cabinets, picking boxes seemingly at random. Murdock had always insisted his 'culinary genius' - his words - left nothing to chance, but B.A. was just glad he'd hidden away the bleach and the rat poison.

"I'm going back to bed, fool, and if you ain't-" and then Murdock bent over to check under the sink - what for, for god's sake? There had been just the rat poison under there - and B.A. suddenly didn't know how to finish the sentence.

And all that room that had been between him and Murdock seemed to have disappeared between one blink of the eye and the next, and suddenly all that naked and bending Murdock wrapped in ugly orange apron was right _there_ and B.A. only had to reach out and-

Murdock gave out a startled yelp and hit his head, but when he twisted around to look at him he didn't seem to be annoyed at all. In fact, he was grinning and his eyes were sparkling with intent. One more hit to the head didn't hurt at this point, B.A. figured.

"Well, well, Bosco," Murdock said, turning completely around. His grin got wider, he leaned back on his forearms and stretched his legs until he was practically lying half on the floor, half under the sink.

He wriggled and the plastic apron squeaked.

B.A.'s hands went to Murdock's hips, gripping and pushing down. The wriggling stopped. "That's an ugly apron," he said.

Murdock smoothed down the apron over his chest. "I like orange," he said, as if that might have been a good enough excuse for wearing it. He tried wriggling out of B.A.'s grip, but B.A. pressed down more firmly. Murdock gave a soft, breathy laugh.

Seemingly on their own accord, B.A.'s fingers started tracing circles and abstract patterns on Murdock's warm skin, in the hollow of his hips.

And Jesus, this was so _stupid_, Murdock was half under the sink and they were in the _kitchen_ for god's sake, Hannibal and Face could walk in, and they were both fools at this point. But Murdock was looking at him, his grin halfway to a smile and B.A. was the bigger idiot between the two of them - possibly the biggest idiot in history - because he just bent down and kissed him. His hands left Murdock's hips and trailed down naked thighs until they reached the knees and then up they went again.

Murdock tugged him down by the collar of his wife-beater, and then his fingers traveled up B.A.'s neck, down his shoulders, down his arms, light and soft like a whisper. Murdock always touched him like that at first, as if he was afraid he'd break, as if B.A. were made of precious crystal or something; it felt like warm rain falling down his arms.

B.A. always did have little patience, though, _and_ they were about to have sex in the kitchen. He broke free of the kiss and sat back on his haunches. Murdock whined in protest, but it soon turned into a surprised yelp and then a chuckle when B.A. grabbed his legs above the knee and pulled him forward onto his lap.

He bent down to resume the kissing, while his hands went around Murdock trying to find the knot to take off that goddamn apron. It was tiny and so tightly bound that B.A. cursed into the kiss, and cursed some more when he felt Murdock's laughter shaking against his lips.

The laughter stopped abruptly when B.A. changed tactics and brought his hands back on the front, brushing his fingers over the skin and hair of Murdock's belly. The muscles under his touch spasmed and Murdock gasped.

B.A. drew back and looked down at his arms, disappearing under the apron at the wrist, at Murdock, whose flush was slowly spreading over his cheeks, at Murdock's legs, spread to accommodate him.

"Fuck," he said.

This was some crazy shit, how was this his life again? Give a lift to a stranger one day, and end up having sex with a certified crazy man in the kitchen of a safe house while on the run from pretty much _everyone_.

In the privacy of his own mind, B.A. wouldn't change it for the world.

"_Boooscooo_," Murdock whined and shifted around, his bare buttocks brushing against the skin of B.A.'s thighs enticingly.

"Shut up, fool!" he hissed. "You want everyone to hear?"

"Now, don't be mff-hmm-hmm," said Murdock. Apparently such things as kissing didn't slow him down none.

B.A. took advantage of that, when Murdock opened his mouth to continue with what was surely some crazy notion, and slipped his tongue inside, while his hands settled on Murdock's hips and gave a squeeze in warning. His right hand fumbled blindly until his fingers got tangled in the rough curls of his pubic hair, and when his thumb traced a line from the root to the tip of his cock, he found Murdock was already fully erect.

Murdock gave a full-body shudder and his lips trembled against B.A.'s with a muffled moan. B.A. took a sharp intake of breath and yeah, now his own cock was totally _on_ with the plan.

B.A. made a fist around Murdock's cock and let him set the pace, until his hips were snapping with no particular rhythm, as unpredictable as everything else concerning him. He leaned over him, until he practically had Murdock bent in two, the motion of his fist never stuttering even once. He thrust forward with his hips, and then his hand and Murdock's cock were trapped, and his own cock was leaking in his boxers and despite the fabric and the plastic apron he could still feel Murdock fucking his fist.

He trailed his mouth down Murdock's neck to kiss and bite at the skin there; their lips parted with a smacking sound and Murdock let out a wet moan straight out of B.A.'s dirties fantasies. "Jesus Christ," Murdock panted, and then he went on chanting a mantra of 'Bosco, Bosco,' until his words became nothing more than high-pitched whines.

Lately B.A. had almost developed a Pavlovian response to Murdock saying his name like that and it had almost lead to _very_ embarrassing situations a couple of times. Thankfully Murdock was the only one calling him Bosco on regular basis.

His left hand went from Murdock's knee up his thigh in a slow caress, until it was cupping his buttock. B.A.'s finger trailed lower, lightly, teasing. Murdock's pants stuttered and broke out in a breathy moan when he sank in, just the tip, and Jesus, B.A. always expected tension, some kind of resistance, but not with Murdock. Murdock was always open and willing and - _fuck_ \- still a bit slick from earlier.

Murdock arched his back and his hands scrambled at B.A.'s shoulders, down his arms, his fingers leaving scratches everywhere in his attempt to find something to hold on to. B.A. quickened the strokes on his cock and added another finger. Murdock gasped and choked as if he were drowning on dry land; he hid his face behind his clenched fists and he gave out a shattered cry. His body relaxed all at once and warmth spread over B.A.'s hand and the skin shuddering against his fingers with every breath Murdock took.

"Well, that was-" Murdock started after a long moment, his voice shaky. "Well. I didn't know you liked my cooking _this_ much." He grinned up at him.

B.A. groaned and fell forward over him, ignoring the gasp when Murdock got the wind knocked out of him. That would teach the fool.

Who was still wriggling. What the hell. It wasn't like he wasn't bumping against B.A.'s erection with every movement, now was it. "Stay still, you crazy fool," he growled.

Murdock went still. After a long moment he honest-to-god raised his hand."Hey, Bosco," he said. "Question."

B.A. sighed against the nape of his neck. "_What_?"

"Would you like a blow-job?" came the question. "See, I'm asking because you seem-"

B.A. sat up so quickly he almost gave himself motion sickness. When he looked down he found Murdock was - predictably - grinning up at him. "Come on, big guy," his grin got wider. "Big Bosco. B.A. Baracus." That last 's' became a hiss, and then Murdock arched his eyebrows and licked his lips.

Game on. Game _on_.

B.A. crawled forward until he was basically sitting on Murdock's chest, his knees planted on his upper arms, effectively pinning them down. He made a show of sliding down the elastic band of his boxers and when his cock sprung out, hard and curving and leaking, Murdock's eyes crossed and his breath quickened. He swallowed and then looked up at B.A.

How the crazy fool could be so hot, was beyond B.A. capabilities to comprehend. With his left hand he combed Mudock's hair backwards, while with his right at the back of his neck he guided him forward.

"See if you can still talk with your mouth full," he said, guiding his cock forward with his left hand.

Apparently, Murdock took that as a challenge. His words were muffled to the point of becoming an indistinct rumble against B.A.'s cock as he took him in, inch by inch, spit running down his chin.

"Fuck," B.A. growled. He fought against the instinct of sliding down in one long thrust, and instead he gently cradled his head and kept it steady as his hips moved slowly. "Jesus, you should always be like this."

Murdock mumbled something, and his tongue flattened against the underside of his cock as slid out, circled the head. "Fuck," B.A. ground his teeth, and down there Murdock winked at him. _Winked_.

He was never going to last long in the first place, but seeing Murdock lying there, pinned to the floor unable to go anywhere - and most importantly, _unwilling_ \- seriously cut down his chances to an embarrassing degree.

Murdock patted his thigh and B.A. slid backwards, his knees letting Murdock's arms free so they could wrap around his hips, so Murdock could sit up and actively participate. He met B.A. thrust for thrust, until he was doing all the work and B.A.'s hips could barely keep up with the rhythm, stuttering; until B.A. leaned against the counter and hid his face in the crook of his elbow.

"I swear," he panted. "I swear, only you make me do this shit."

"Aw, Bosco," Murdock said. "You're such a romantic. Look what I learnt."

And then he deep-throated him.

When B.A. was once again capable of conscious thought he found he was lying on the floor, next to Murdock, with their heads and the top of their shoulders under the sink. His right forearm hurt, too, and when he went to investigate he found out he must have bitten down on his own arm to keep quiet.

Murdock was staring at him, amused. He had the bowl with the Mysterious Cheese on his chest. It had reached liquid state now, apparently.

"Where did you learn to do _that_?"

"Oh, Bosco, Bosco," Murdock shook his head, disappointed. "Why do you think I bought all those bananas?"

B.A. frowned at the mental images. "To mess with our heads?"

Murdock seemed to think about it. "That too," he acknowledged. "And I like smoothies."

"Will you come to bed _now_, fool?"

"Taste this," he said, dipping a finger in the bowl and then shoving said finger in B.A.'s face.

B.A. opened his mouth and tasted, because Murdock might have been a crazy fool, but he was an excellent cook.

"I think there's a leak."

* * *

Face eyed the Mysterious Liquid Cheese with distrust. Not that B.A. could blame him, it didn't look nearly as good as it tasted. "What's the secret ingredient, this time?" he asked. "Tell me it's not rat poison."

B.A. shook his head. "I hid that."

Murdock gave B.A. another big serving. "It's _looove_!"

Face ended up wearing half a cup of B.A.'s coffee when he spewed it straight out of his nose.


End file.
